Somewhere down through the twisting alleys and the narrow streets, down past scrawled and fading graffiti and piled refuse, down between the cracks… a thing grew.

In its beginning it was asomatous. It was a discarnate self, experiencing first the qualia of time, and then of place. It felt the passing of moments. It extended itself into a niche where people rarely went, and in that corner of the city which few knew of, which even fewer cared to visit, there amidst the marginalia of five million stories, it became.

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This is a Weird Urban Fantasy, complete at 1500 words.